<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Five Futures of Clementine Kesh by fangirl_squee</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25820746">The Five Futures of Clementine Kesh</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee'>fangirl_squee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Friends at the Table (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Gen, spoilers up to episode 27 of partizan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:55:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25820746</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clem gets her hands on Future and sees flashes of what could be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gucci Garantine/Clementine Kesh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Five Futures of Clementine Kesh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gur Sevraq comes to visit her regularly. Clem doesn’t know what to make of it, honestly, whether he’s patronisingly trying to teach her right from wrong or whether it’s a form of subtle gloating. She’s not sure what exactly they’re getting out of the exchanges, but they keep coming back every few days, chessboard in hand so that she can embarrass herself in that arena as well.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Still, it’s nice to get visitors, in a way. Even Gucci doesn’t visit so often.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem blinks, cutting herself off from that line of thought. With Gur, she needs her wits about her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They lean forward after the chess match is over to point out something on her board, some maneuver she could have made but didn’t, and there’s a glint of something in their robes. Clem frowns, leaning forward as she pretends to listen to what Gur is saying, trying to get a better look at it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s small, whatever it is, positioned in such a way that Clem’s sure he means for it to be hidden, which, well. Now she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>it must be important. Secrets always are.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It glints again, closer, the tiny medallion-like object threatening to slip free from the fabric of Gurs robes. Clem tilts her body, angling herself so that Gur will angle themselves in response, letting gravity do the rest of the work.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a chiming sound in her head, a clear bell, and her hand is moving upwards before she’s even thought of it. As her fingers touch the cool metal, Gur’s eyes go wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, the world is white.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clem blinks, stumbling over her own feet. She’s running (when did she start running?) through a twisting corridor that is far too organic in appearance to be the corridors of Fort Icebreaker. She looks down at herself, blinking in surprise at the Summer Passage colours on her jumpsuit, soaked to the knee in dirty water. In her hand is a large shard of one of the helmets from Broun’s stores, cutting into her skin with how hard she’s been gripping it. The nametag on the front of it says her name is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fina</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Memories curl back into her mind. An escape. She had snuck on board the ship, disguising herself with the others that were to compete. She had been spotted as the group prepared to attend the opening ceremony and she had run, through the stadium, towards the twisted skeleton of the Divine Providence. She can’t remember what her end goal was, if she ever had one.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She slows, putting her hand on the wall. It’s cool to the touch but there is… something. A pulsing hum, like a heartbeat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They’re coming</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whispers a voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s the sound of footsteps behind her, making her jump.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s nowhere to go Clementine,” calls Sovereign Immunity, “Just- make it easier for all of us, come on.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, we have stuff to do!” says Leap.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign shushes him, but it’s too late, she already feels annoyed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would I ever want to make your life easier?” says Clem, “All you have done is complicate mine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> why you’re going back in the brig,” says Leap.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” says Clem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Then follow me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whispers the voice from before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem looks wildly around her, but there’s nothing but the rough corridor walls. She can hear the splash of footsteps behind her, which means the others have reached the level she’s on. She pushes herself forward, heading down, her feet splashing through musty puddles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Clementine!” calls Sovereign Immunity, “Come on, this is-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem stumbles, her ragged breathing echoing in the corridor. She reaches out, steadying herself on the wall. She can feel the tiredness in her limbs, pulling her down. She can feel her surgery scars throb in time with her heartbeat. All she wants to do is sit down, but, more than that, she doesn’t want to go back to Fort Icebreaker, back to being a tiny, meaningless figure in a tiny, meaningless cell.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t go back!” says Clem, her voice not as steady as she’d like.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where else are you gonna go?” says Leap.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says the voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you?” says Clem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Leap- did you hit your head?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I am someone who also wants freedom</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says the voice, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am someone who also wants vengeance for their imprisonment</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a click-hiss behind her, and she turns to see a door opening, sliding back from the wall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Behind her, the footsteps get closer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Surely whatever is behind that door will serve her better than staying in the corridor to be recaptured. She can handle whatever it is, and if they truly want what she wants, well then, the more the better.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem manages to stumble through the door, leaning heavily on the wall as it click-hisses closed, plunging her into darkness. She puts a hand over her mouth, muffling the sound of her breathing, waiting, her other hand steadying herself on the wall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Divines above, she’s fast,” says Sovereign Immunity, his voice muffled through the wall, “Maybe we should have got her to compete.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She would have just done this,” says Leap, “Come on old man, she can’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> far in front of us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem’s fingers curl against the rough wall. It pulses under her hand, making her skin tingle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says the voice, </span>
  <em>
    <span>That anger I know well. Made to be trapped, and trapped again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem swallows. “Who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The lights flicker on, a sickening red glow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A Divine, thought dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem steps forward. The room is a mess, bullet holes and laser burns streak the wall, the smashed remains of furniture made into a barricade along the far wall. The only things in the room that are still standing are a control panel towards the end of the room and a single chair. When she touches the back of it, it feels as though it’s made of the same rough metal as the walls. It pulses under her hand, in time with her heartbeat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Which one?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>People called me Providence</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says the voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem stills. “Providence is dead.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So are you, according to news reports</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Another commonality between us, to be lied about by Stel Kesh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You- I heard they took your Divinity.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a soft rumble of laughter and Clem feels herself flush.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do not feel so foolish</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>They told you what they thought they had done. They did not know.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Know what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That I am not dead. That I have merely been waiting.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The chair pulses under Clem’s hands, the feeling flowing through her, reminding her of her tired muscles. She so, so wants to sit down, to rest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>My revenge</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Another commonality</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Those that you had thought were you allies locked you away</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>And you have no safe harbour to run to. For you and I, the whole Partizan is a prison.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I could- I…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem trails off. The reason she hasn’t formulated a plan beyond ‘get out’ was because there isn’t really a plan to be made. By now her mother has undoubtedly gathered enough evidence to prove that she has been working against Kesh forces. To the other Stels she would be little more than a bargaining chip. Fort Icebreaker had been her one chance to strike out on her own, to have her own power, but now-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Now there is no other option for you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not out there. But in here…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem wet her lips. “What would you need from me in return?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>On the chair in front of you, there is a switch</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it is the only thing not connected within me. A kill switch they designed and used against me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clem looks down. On a panel jutting out of one of the arms of the chair, under a layer of dust, is a single button. There’s a dark stain along one of the sides of the panels, a dried smear of something that looks like blood. It is impossible to know what it is under the red light, but Clem’s stomach twists just the same.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And if I press this?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Power will be restored, to both of us</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They pause. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clementine Kesh. Help me and we will both receive what we truly deserve</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem steps around the chair, leaning over the arm a little to see the button more closely. It has a white light to it, faint under the dust.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We would work together?” says Clem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The chair pulses under her hands in time with their words.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Come, Clementine Kesh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Power awaits us both</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem takes a breath, and presses the button.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, nothing happens, and then the room around her begins to shake. Clem slips, falling into the chair. She can hear things begin to slide around the room and Providence begins to rise, the panel shaking loose from the chair and banging onto the floor. She grips the arms of the chair, feeling relief as a belt slides around her chest, holding her steady.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” says Clem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Providence laughs again, and Clem can feel the rumble of it in her teeth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do not thank me yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>We are only just begun</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The screens flicker on in front of her, giving her a clear view as Providence rises up, bringing their tail down on the walls of the stadium that had housed them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait,” says Clem, “What about-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I have no care for those that imprisoned me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, but-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a crash, and the stadium begins to come down, any thrill of victory disappearing as her stomach twists. Leap and Sovereign could have gotten out. But she can’t know for sure that they did.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- If this is to be a partnership, then I-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Providence laughs. They head towards another one of the buildings, a tall shining thing meant for executive meetings and cocktail parties. They swipe at it with their tail and Clem can hear the glass shatter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This is vengeance</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not for me,” says Clem, “You said-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Is this not what you deserve, Kesh? To see what you have built on top of my bones, destroyed by my hands</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>And it is all the sweeter for me, to know that a daughter of Kesh will see it all</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But I don’t- </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t do anything to you!” says Clem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Providence ignores her, sending the building falling to the ground. They’re hit by something and they turn, taking in the small army in front of them. From this height, they look like toys, and Providence treats them as such, tossing them aside easily.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem pulls at the harness around her and it restricts again, pinning her to the seat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wouldn’t want you getting hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>After all, a Divine must protect their Elect</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not your Elect,” says Clem, pulling at the harness, “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>tricked</span>
  </em>
  <span> me!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Providence laughs, heading towards the ocean. Clem can see a formation of mechs in the distance, her stomach dropping as she spots one in particular. The Transgress Oblige is easy to spot in the light, speeding over the water towards Providence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t…” says Clem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I can do what I like</span>
  </em>
  <span>, says Providence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that is what power is</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem looks around, frantic. Her feet scrabble for purchase on the floor as Providence takes a step forward, and the panel with the killswitch hits her feet. She stretches, her fingers just brushing the edge of it, feeling the straps of her harness cut into through the fabric of her jumpsuit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” says Clem, “No, I have to get out of here, I have to-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s the chiming of a bell, and the world of red around her turns white.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said, do you understand?” says Sovereign Immunity.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem blinks up at him, her heart beating fast. She grips the arm of the chair she’s seated in, feeling the worn fabric under her palm. “I… Sovereign?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign Immunity sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. He looks tired, even more than he usually does. The shoulder of his jacket is torn, fraying a little and making him look ragged. Clem glances down at herself - her own clothes are in a similar condition.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem casts her eyes around the room. It’s shabby and full of cheap home comforts and not at all the heart of a homicidal Divine. She lets out a breath and sits back in the perfectly ordinary chair that she’s sitting in. She’s never been so relieved to be sitting on something made of cheap fabric.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- Clementine, listen,” says Sovereign Immunity, “This is- it’s just for a bit longer. So all I need you to do is to stay here. Once Crysanth agrees to our terms, you can go back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Back… to Crysanth,” say Clem slowly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, back to the palace,” Sovereign Immunity.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So I’m just to be a bargaining chip,” says Clem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign Immunity makes a face. “Well, I… I wouldn’t put it </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that, but-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The memories trickle in, again. It’s a longer stretch of them this time - being secreted out of Fort Icebreaker and moved from crumbling cottage to dusty farmhouse as Sovereign Immunity tried a kidnapping gambit again. Weeks stretching into months and negotiations wore on. Resources thinned as the rest of Fort Icebreaker lost faith in Sovereign Immunity’s ability to negotiate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose I don’t really have a choice in the matter,” says Clem, her voice sharper than she’d meant it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She turns her face away, looking out towards the window. She can see someone, and armed someone, leaning against their mech. There used to be more, before, back when more people believed the negotiations would work.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It won’t be for too much longer,” says Sovereign Immunity, “Crysanth will give in to get you back eventually.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem makes a non-committal sound. She doesn’t move until she hears the door shut behind him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t understand,” says Clem softly to herself, “I’m not important enough for them to pay to get me back.” She looks down at her hands, the nailpolish chipped beyond repair. “And if I was important, I wouldn’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If I was important, you would let me </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A bell chimes, and Clem looks up in time to see the world outside the room dissolve into white.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re very quiet tonight,” says Gucci.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem jerks, making Gucci go off balance where their bodies are caught together in a dance. Gucci gives her an odd look, settling her hands back on Clem’s waist as Clem takes a breath, trying to figure out where she is now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her clothes are more her own again, a beautiful gown that she doesn’t recognise but is perfectly to her taste. Gucci is dressed in a similar fashion, as are the other couple dancing around them. It’s a ballroom, somewhere. No- Clem frowns. It’s the Princept’s palace, but it’s been remodeled since she visited last. It looks quite nice actually, beautiful colour choices, and-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem stops short. Her personal seal is everywhere.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci gives her another look and Clem clears her throat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- apologise. I have a lot on my mind.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her head spins as they turn slowly around the room. An escape from Fort Icebreaker under the cover of darkness. The Princept’s assasination and her mother’s political maneuvering to get her into power, the position she had always dreamed she’d reach. Millennium Break being painted as the assassins, and her own public disavowal of them. A speech she read, in her mother’s handwriting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Care to share your troubles?” says Gucci.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” Clem presses her lips together. “I don’t think that would be the best idea.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci smiles wryly. “Worth a try.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, I’ve always-” She presses her lips together again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci’s hand flexes on her waist, and Clem can feel the words bubbling inside her chest, too jumbled to say aloud. She remembers, too, messages to Gucci, offering her a place by the throne. Messages that had gone unanswered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was good of you to come,” is what Clem says instead. “I didn’t know if you had received the invitation.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There was some… discussion on whether I should attend,” said Gucci. She shrugs, a graceful motion of her bare shoulders. “In the end, it was agreed that it was too valuable an event to pass up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I see,” says Clem, even though she doesn’t, not really. “But did you-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Clementine,” says Crysanth, stepping neatly through the crowd of dancers to put a hand on Clem’s shoulder, “There you are. There are some members from the Apostalisian delegation who have been wanting to speak with you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” says Clem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The words are out before she can stop herself. A small break on Fort Icebreaker was, she supposed, not quite enough to reverse a lifetime under Crysanth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps you’ll save a dance for me later?” says Gucci.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- perhaps,” says Clem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They both smile at each other as Clem steps back from Gucci. They won’t have another dance tonight, and Clem’s heart aches a little with the knowledge of it. Everything else at this party is unbearable. Everything at these parties are </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> unbearable, she’s always hated them, always, always, always. She’d sworn she’s never hold such dreadful things, if </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> were Princept, but Crysanth insisted that they were too politically valuable not to hold, and so hold them Clem did.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you at least were able to gain some information,” murmurs Crysanth as they walk, “Or were you just reminiscing on your time in the rebellion?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We were just dancing, mother,” says Clem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crysanth hums. “A pity. Even reminiscing might be useful, but I suppose I shouldn’t ask for too much.” She smiles at a group across the room, beginning to guide Clem towards them. “Now, keep them busy while I work.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Doing what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crysanth shoots her a sharp look, and Clem swallows. “It is best, my darling Princept, if you do not know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You always say that,” says Clem, “But couldn’t I- if I knew, I could help.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crysanth gives a quiet laugh. Her smile is a gracious one, as always. “Oh, Clementine. No, you couldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Behind the group she will soon be forced to entertain, Clem can see Gucci dancing with Morningbride, talking softly to one another. She didn’t even know Morningbride was invited.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course she was,” says Crysanth, “Now, please Clementine, </span>
  <em>
    <span>focus</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Be a good host.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s no power in being a good host. There’s no power to being Princept at all, not the way Partizan is, not the way Kesh is. It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> power.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a chiming sound again. Clem keeps her eyes on Gucci until she disappears in the white light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A Kesh princess. You must be a long way from home.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem jerks her head up. There’s a blonde woman in robes sitting opposite her, a tea set in between them. The tent around them is covered in bright fabrics, muffling the sound of a crowd outside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I… yes,” says Clem, “Yes, I must be.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a long way, longer even than Broun would take them, since they’d decided to return to Partizan. Something about unfinished business, as though there was ever such a thing as </span>
  <em>
    <span>finished</span>
  </em>
  <span> business. Clem had kept going, as far into the stars as ships would take her and finding herself attached to a pilgrimage of sorts, guarding a relic as it made its way back to its owner, the woman who was seated across from her right now. She’s heard a lot about They Marked Scars Of Light In Pitch; Born In Fiercest Purpose, And Beheld As The Signet Sealed Upon Our Pact, and it was odd to think that all those stories could be contained within the woman sitting across from her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Strange to think that Kesh are still out there,” says Signet, “But I suppose these things always continue on.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” says Clem, after a moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Signet’s lips quirk upwards, and she takes a delicate sip of her tea. Clem copies the motion, her eyes going to the selection of glass cases by the edge of the tent.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You have questions,” says Signet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” says Clem, “I wouldn’t- well, it would be rude of me to ask.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t mind a little rudeness if it comes with genuine curiosity,” says Signet. Her gaze goes distant for a moment. “I used to know someone who… well. I enjoyed his questions, and you should ask yours.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are they… is that really your hand?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” says Signet, “Or, it was, a long time ago. These things take on other connotations, once they are no longer, strictly speaking, a part of me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did it hurt? I- sorry,” says Clem, “It’s been- things are very weird for me, at the moment, and I-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Signet holds up her hand, making Clem stutter to a stop. “It’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She lowers her hand, setting it gracefully in her lap to match the position of the other. As far as Clem can tell they looked the same, the skin of both free from scars.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And yes, to answer your question. These things always hurt. But then they fade,” says Signet. “They take on new meaning.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t feel… I don’t know, weird?” says Clem, “Thinking how it used to be a part of you and now it’s just this-” She presses her lips together. “I mean, it’s in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>box</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A little, sometimes,” says Signet, “But mostly it feels… normal. I have new hands. Those hands belong to the people now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You seem so… I don’t know how you’re so calm about it," says Clem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Signet pauses, considering her a moment. “I have been alive a long time, and I suppose… I suppose the thing is to find the things that you want to hold onto and keep those. Everything else is just… temporary.” There’s a faint chime, and Signet tilts her head. “I wish you luck, Clementine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Luck- oh,” says Clem, as the tent disappeared into white.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clem felt a cold wind against her face. She lets out a breath, opening her eyes. The sun is beginning to set over the ocean, illuminating the water in red-orange light. Back on Partizan again, then.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She shifts a little on her feet, feeling the ache in her muscles. She leans a little more on the railing of Fort Icebreaker, flinching as her arm comes into contact with someone else’s.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She turns to see Gucci smiling at her, and she feels herself smile back, shocked at how easy it is to return the expression. It’s different to the looks they had exchanged at the party, this one is warmer, easier, and Clem feels herself relax, leaning against Gucci’s arm a little.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci herself looks terrible, her clothes rumpled and torn as though she’s fought and slept in them. She had, Clem remembers sharply, they both had, joking over their radios about how Clem did better in her borrowed mech than she even had in the Panther, a princess turned bodyguard for Saint Dawn. A hard, long battle made easier to bear by knowing that Gucci was on the other end of the radio.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She feels Gucci relax, leaning into her, their foreheads touching. Gucci’s features are luminous in the sunset, her eyelashes turning gold. There’s a chime, the sound of it almost lost to the waves, and Clem’s heart clenches.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” says Gucci softly. Her voice is ragged.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” says Clem. Her throat feels as raw as Gucci’s sounds. “I just… I think this is the one. I’d like to hold on to this one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci raises her hand, her fingertips just touching Clem’s cheek as the world turns white.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clem blinks. Future is clutched in her hand through the gap in the mesh cell. Gur Sevraq’s eyes are wide, one hand on Clem’s wrist and the others held up to gesture for the guards to stay back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She lets go, taking a quick steps back until she’s flat against the wall. “I- I apologise, that was-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you see?” says Gur.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See? I-” Clem swallows down Providence and Princepts and kidnappings and far-off relics and Gucci Garantine. “Nothing. I don’t know what you mean.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gur holds Future in their hand for a moment before they tuck it back inside their robes. “An interesting way to end our game.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I… yes,” says Clem, taking a breath to collect herself. “Well. I shall sit on my hands during our next one to prevent such excitement.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gur chuckles. “That will not be necessary, Your Highness.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem paces around her cell after he leaves, waiting until a more sympathetic guard comes on duty. She gives them a message and then waits an excruciatingly long time for their shift to finish so they can deliver it to Gucci. She walks back and forth, twisting her hands behind her back, until she hears the familiar steps of Gucci echoing down the corridor. Clem takes a deep breath, steading herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci gives her an appraising look, her arms folded. “You sent me a message.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I did,” says Clem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci takes a step forward. “You said you wanted to see me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem stomach twists. “I do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci takes another step closer, and Clem does the same, half a pace separating them through the mesh prison walls.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Clementine,” says Gucci, “What did you want to see me </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” Clem swallows. She has, as with many futures, no plan. “Just to see you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci lets out a breath. “Clementine-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I- Gucci. I can’t exactly go for a walk to your rooms to visit you, now can I? Or walk past where you’re working to catch you in conversation, or wait in the cafeteria somewhere to run into you. I wanted to see you, and now to do that I have to either wait for you to want something or to send you a message.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I… don’t come see you just because I want something,” says Gucci.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You do, but that’s alright,” says Clem, “I enjoy your company. I know it’s never going to be as it was.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci takes half a step forward. “And how was it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Imperfect,” says Clem, taking a step forward to match her. “But I still- You know, I always liked to see you, even when I thought you were up to something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A smile hovers at the edge of Gucci’s lips. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> always liked to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> even when I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> you were up to something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem huffs a laugh. She flexes her hands behind her back and then carefully sets them on the small opening in the mesh. Gucci looks at her for a moment before she reaches out, putting her own hands next to Clem’s in the opening.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for coming,” says Clem, “I know you must be quite busy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s- I can make time,” says Gucci.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem flexes her hands, her fingers reaching out slowly for Gucci’s, their hands brushing against one another’s until they fit together.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci’s communicator beeps and she glances down at it. “Oh, I- I have to go deal with this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem nods, the flutter of her usual jealousy covered by a sinking feeling in her stomach as Gucci steps back. She sits carefully down on her bed, folding her hands in her lap and studiously not looking at Gucci’s retreating form. Gucci’s almost around the corner when she stops, taking a step back into the room. Clem stands up, her heart in her throat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- Maybe, after I’m finished, I’ll come back down and tell you about it,” says Gucci.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clem can’t stop herself from smiling. “I- yes, I suppose that would be... Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci nods, the sounds of her retreating footsteps easier to bear than Clem usually found them. She lay back on the bed looking up at the grey ceiling for a moment and then down at her hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her palms tingle, remembering the feeling of Gucci’s hands in hers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something to hold on to.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come say hi: mariusperkins on most places</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>